


Standing Against the Oncoming Storm

by notyouranswer (gorgeouschaos)



Series: Blood on Golden Feathers [2]
Category: Sandman Slim - Richard Kadrey, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Murder Mystery, canon-typical trauma, oh boy here we go - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27594068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gorgeouschaos/pseuds/notyouranswer
Summary: “What have you done now, Dresden?” Murphy sighs.Dresden opens his mouth, closes it, and then says, “They would have killed him.”She blinks. So do I. Even someone as far removed from the Council as I am knows it’s a bad idea to talk about Council business in front of a human. Instead of asking questions, though, Murphy just sighs again and says, “There’s been three more deaths.”
Series: Blood on Golden Feathers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017226
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Standing Against the Oncoming Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to the person who asked about a Stark POV.  
> Warnings for canon-typical levels of everything you might expect, including: language (it's Stark); referenced torture, rape, and child abuse; murder and violence; and so on. I don't believe any of it is graphic enough to tag graphic levels of violence, but it's there.  
> Also: I am smashing canon into a blender and making it usable. This work is basically an alternate universe from the books Dead Beats/Sandman Slim respectively.  
> Thanks for reading this incredibly niche crossover, hope you like it, and the muses feed off comments/kudos.

I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

They don’t take off the thorn manacles that first night. I can’t really blame them. Eventually, the manacles hurt enough that I say, “I could kill you with these on if I wanted to, and I want to take a shower.” 

After some debate with the vampire, Dresden unlocks the thorn manacles. The flood of my magic returning makes it a little easier to breathe. 

Having my hands bound is familiar. That doesn’t mean it’s good. 

I don’t kill Dresden or Raith. I could, but I don’t. I’m not sure why, apart from I’m pretty sure Alice wouldn’t want me to.

Dresden doesn’t feed me for a while. I assume it’s part of whatever he took me on for. If the worst he does is starve me a little, I’ll be fine. I know exactly how long I can go without food, and it’s a damn long time. He doesn’t say anything when I drink water, so that’s not an issue. Besides, worst comes to worst, I’ll live out the rest of my life in the Room. The Council got the jump on me once, held a gun to Carlos’ head before I could slip through a shadow. 

It won’t happen again. I won’t let it.

I’d miss things if I spent the rest of my existence in the Room, though. Like Mexican food and whiskey and spaghetti westerns. 

So I stay, even though the pain in my stomach gets distracting around day four. 

It’s day six when Dresden pulls on his coat and asks me if I want to go to a bar with him. 

He doesn’t know what the fuck to do with me. Fair enough. I don’t know what the fuck to do with him. 

“Yeah,” I tell him, and I follow him out to a car that looks like it was falling apart when I went Downtown. 

Dresden orders a steak sandwich for me. I want to ask what I did to deserve it, but I decide not to question it. I demolish it in under a minute. 

When I look up from an empty plate, the bartender is looking at me hard. Dresden notices. “What?”

The bartender-- Mac, my brain provides-- jerks a thumb at my plate. Dresden’s brow furrows in confusion before his face turns wary. “Stark, when was the last time you ate?”

I have to think about it. “The last meal the wardens gave me.”

Dresden stares at me. “There’s food at the apartment.”

“You didn’t say I could eat it,” I point out. 

“You haven’t eaten in a week?”

I shrug. 

Mac turns away pointedly. Dresden scrubs a hand over his face. “You should have said something, damn it.”

“It’s not my first time being owned,” I tell him. Behind me, Mac drops a glass. The noise of glass shattering makes me add, against my instincts, “I’m not that stupid.”

Dresden’s angry. I swallow apologies I stopped giving after a few weeks Downtown and wait. 

“Okay,” Dresden breathes. He knocks back the rest of his beer. I try not to tense up in anticipation. “Okay. I, Harry Dresden, hereby give you permission to eat whenever you want to.”

I blink as the weight of the oath settles over me.  _ The fuck? _

“Mac,” Dresden calls. “Another sandwich for Stark.”

Mac nods in acknowledgement. 

Half an hour later, when my stomach rebels against too much food too fast, Dresden brings me water and watches me vomit my guts out while he apologizes.

That’s the first time it sinks in that this isn’t Hell. I start laughing and don’t stop until I have to puke again. 

When the wave of nausea passes, I swipe the back of my arm over my mouth.

“Want me to, uh, rub your back or something?” Dresden offers. 

“Fuck no. Don’t touch me.”

“Cool.” And he doesn’t. 

“Did you know? That it would make you sick?” Dresden asks.

“Yeah.”

“So why’d you do it?”

Isn’t it obvious? “You told me to.”

If some soup shows up in the fridge, neither of us comment.

Watching movies at Raith’s place a week later, I still don’t know why Dresden saved my sorry ass. I’m pretty sure it’s got something to do with the vampire, though. When Raith slammed me into the wall, I was sure feeding him was my new existence. But the worst Raith’s done is snarl at me. 

Dresden’s in the bathroom when Raith says, “I’m not going to-- to pin you down and rape you or something, you know. I wouldn’t.”

I shrug. “It’s not personal. You wouldn’t be the first of your kind to do it.” Doesn’t mean I won’t burn him from the inside if he tries. 

I’m Sandman motherfuckin’ Slim. I’m nobody’s bitch. Not anymore.

I can’t read the vampire’s face. He just says, “Harry would kill me before he’d let that happen.”

“I’d kill you first,” I tell him, and he nods like he couldn’t care less.

I think back to what I’d seen in Dresden’s soul. 

Dresden is a man standing against the oncoming storm. 

He might kill Raith if he tried. I’m honestly not sure. The problem with soul gazes is they only tell you who someone is, not what they’ll do.

We sit in silence until Dresden comes back. And if I don’t tense up quite as much when Raith stands, no one comments on it. 

And if the sound of corn popping makes me throw up a shield, no one comments on that, either.

Dresden drags me to one of his consulting gigs. He still doesn’t trust me on my own, and I can’t blame him. It’s good to get out of his shitty apartment, though. It’s a little too much like being in a cell after a while. 

Karrin Murphy takes one look at me and I can practically hear _ criminal _ go through her head. She isn’t wrong. 

“Murph, this is Stark,” Dresden says. “He’s my, uh… he’s an assistant.”

Nice one, Dresden. Real convincing. 

“What have you done now, Dresden?” Murphy sighs. 

Dresden opens his mouth, closes it, and then says, “They would have killed him.”

She blinks. So do I. Even someone as far removed from the Council as I am knows it’s a bad idea to talk about Council business in front of a human. Instead of asking questions, though, Murphy just sighs again and says, “There’s been three more deaths.”


End file.
